


The Adventure Starts

by DeeNomilk



Series: Tashok the Dragonborn [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fantasy Racism, Kinda, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-18 15:38:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17583629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeeNomilk/pseuds/DeeNomilk
Summary: Tashok's first day in Skyrim is a lot more turbulent than she would've liked, but she has a bad habit of offering her services to anyone who asks.aka Tash's first quest in Skyrim.





	The Adventure Starts

Tashok sneaks back into her room, arms full of bread, cheese and some pastries she bought from the innkeeper and carefully held as she went up the stairs. On her bed, sleeping soundly beside Pearl is a small Nord child she encountered on her way into the city from the docks. She directed her to the Candlehearth Hall, but not before inquiring as to whether she would like to buy some flowers. One question at a time, Tashok came to find out the child is living on the streets, an orphan.

For 5 gold more, she could let her into the room for some warmth and proper sleep.

The small girl, Sofie, she said her name was, stirs as Tashok closes the door behind her.

“Mornin’, little one.” Tashok says softly.

“M’where…” Sofie sluggishly rubs her eyes and looks around. “Oh!”

At this, Pearl also lifts his head and looks around, stretching and flexing his claws nonchalantly.

“Sleep well?” Tashok asks as she sets the food down on the table.

“Yes! I don’t remember the last time I woke up warm!” Sofie perks up, then her eyes trail to the food.

She visibly yearns for it, but doesn't ask for it nor make any move to help herself. Sofie glances hesitantly at Tashok, before quickly looking at the food once more.

“You can have some, you know.” Tashok pulls out a chair and starts slicing the cheese wheel. “I bought it to share.”

“You did?” the disbelief in the girl’s voice made Tashok’s heart ache. “Wow, thank you Miss!”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure.”

The two if them ate with a small conversation carrying them until they were both full and content. Tashok found herself wishing she could do more for the child: she could’t be much more than half her age, and all alone. But Tashok didn’t have much to offer, and most definitely didn’t have a house where the girl could stay.

She doesn't even have a job yet.

She bites her lip at the thought of having to part with the young girl, who'll no doubt be freezing in the streets again. There must be something she can do... Ah!

She takes her cloak out of the wardrobe and looks a it for a few seconds before handing it to Sofie.

“Here, this should help you stay warm…” Tashok wraps it around the small child.

“For real?” Sofie’s eyes are opened as wide as her mouth.

“I’d make you a warmth balm, but I don’t really know much about the ingredients here in Skyrim… I’d need to mix the purple mountain flowers you gave me with some fat, and another ingredient that’d bring out it’s anti-freezing properties…” Tashok trails off before looking back down at Sofie. “You wouldn’t happen to know of any, would you?”

“Uh…” a perplexed look is all Sofie could give.

“Right, uh, you’re a little kid…” Tashok blushes. “Is there.. a market nearby?”

“Yeah!” Sofie becomes confident, proud that she can answer. “Right outside of here, turn to the right before the gates and follow the path.”

“Thank you, Sofie.” Tashok stands up. “Why don’t you stay here with Pearl until I get back? We should still have the room for a bit… If I’m not back before then would you mind waiting for me where we met yesterday?”

“Okay!”

It’s not later than five minutes before Tashok is exiting the inn, her satchel and backpack ready to be filled and her coin pouch unfortunately ready to be emptied.

“You come here where you're not wanted, you eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink…” Tashok freezes as she turns towards the harsh voice, expecting its speaker to be marching angrily towards her.

Instead she sees two Nord men yelling at a Dunmer woman.

“…And you refuse to help the Stormcloaks.”

“But we haven't taken a side because it's not our fight.” the woman defends herself.

_Walk away Tash… This doesn’t involve you…_

_But what if they **hurt** her?_

“Hey, maybe the reason these gray-skins don't help in the war is because they're Imperial spies!” the other Nord accuses.

"Imperial spies? You can't be serious!” the woman sounds downright dumbfounded.

Tashok, despite her nerves, walks closer to the commotion.

"Maybe we'll pay you a visit tonight, little spy. We got ways of finding out what you really are.” the first Nord threatens before marching off.

Tashok’s focus is still on the man’s back when she hears the woman’s voice again, addressed to her this time.

"Do you hate the dark elves? Are you here to bully us and tell us to leave?”

“Me? I, uh… No? I don’t hate dark elves…” Tashok frowns in confusion.

"You've come to the wrong city, then.” she scoffs. “Windhelm’s a haven of prejudice and narrow thinking, unworthy of one such as you.”

“Are you going to be alright? Those Nords seemed like trouble…”

"Nothing new there.” the woman shrugs. “Most of the Nords living in Windhelm don't care much for us, but Rolff is the worst by far. He likes to get drunk and walk around the Gray Quarter yelling insults at us in the small hours of the morning. A real charmer, that one.”

“I assume that’s the smelly one who was yelling?”

“Ha!” the woman lets out a hearty laugh. “Don’t let him hear you say that. Then again… You seem like you could handle yourself.”

“I don’t get it though… Why would anyone think you're a spy?” 

"Some of these Nords will come up with any excuse to despise us. And it isn't just the dark elves they hate — they make a target of the Argonians as well. In fact, just about anyone who isn't a Nord is fair game for their bullying.”

“Joy…” Tashok grumbles, her ears dropping down as she frowns.

She'd hoped her prospects would be better in Skyrim.

“Don’t let that bother you. Get back at them by succeeding.” the woman gives Tashok a pat on the shoulder and a grin before heading towards the docks.

Tashok finds herself going that direction about an hour later looking for Sadri’s Used Wares, based on the sketchy instructions of one of the merchants. People seem to assume she knows where everything is around here. Following her intuition, she finds it quickly enough and comes out with more gold than before, but down her gold necklace. A worthy trade.

She’s reviewing her day’s shopping when she overhears a conversation between two men.

“You're a war hero, Brunwulf. Ulfric will listen to you.” the first one says.

"It's not that simple.” the second man, Brunwulf, assumingely, responds. “Ulfric wants a Skyrim for the Nords. He doesn't trust what he calls ‘outsiders'."

Tashok turns her head towards them at this.

"You've seen how we live―cramped alleys, run-down buildings, few guard patrols. Even the name 'Gray Quarter' is an insult.” the first man, a Dunmer, continues.

Goodness… Was coming here a mistake?

"I'll speak to Ulfric soon, but I make no promises that I can change his mind."

"That's all I ask. With your help, we have a chance to make a better life for ourselves here. For that, I thank you.”

The Dunmer departs, while the Nord he was conversing with turns his attention to Tashok, who’s been caught eavesdropping.

"You one of those 'Skyrim for the Nords' types?” he asks.

“What?! Of course not.” the question catches her off guard. “I mean, look at me!" she gestures to her face. "I just got here. I think everyone should be welcome here… ”

“And you’re right, as far as I’m concerned.” he replies with a respectful nod.

Tashok pouts, wringing her hands into her tunic.

“So Ulfric doesn't care much for outsiders?" she asks.

"Whenever a group of marauders attack a Nord village, Ulfric is the first to sound the horn and send the men! But a group of Dark Elf refugees gets ambushed? A group of Argonians, or a Khajiit caravan? No troops. No investigation. Nothing.” Brunwulf sneers. “There's a group of cutthroats out there right now that Ulfric doesn't lift a finger to bring to justice, as long as they don't threaten Nord land.”

_That's horrible!_

_Especially with no one helping..._

“What if I took care of those bandits?” the offer is out of her mouth before she can stop it.

“That's a brave offer. I'd be happy to throw in my coin behind that… Here’s their location.” he opens up her map and points it out. “You deal with them, I'll make sure you get paid. Maybe this old soldier will throw in some lessons as well.”

“Soldier… That dark elf called you a war hero.” 

"I... I killed a lot of High Elves in the Great War, and I didn't die. I guess that makes me a war hero.” he shrugs, looking to the side. “The "Great War"... there was nothing great about it. Thousands died on both sides and where did we end up? Did we really save the Empire or did we just plant the seeds for Ulfric's uprising and another war?”

“I’m sure things will straighten out eventually. I mean, it has to, right?”

“I hope so kid…” he sighs, before giving Tashok a small grin. “But in the meantime, show those marauders what Windhelm justice tastes like.”

“Will do!” purposefully strides towards the entrance to the city.

“And get some armour!”

Whelp… there goes her extra coin.

—

Tashok crouches down as she approaches the run-down cabin the bandits have taken refuge in, thankful for the loud moan of the wind muffling her steps, keeping her from being noticed by the marauders. In her hands is a Bound Bow, a spell she learned from one of her former teacher’s many patrons as a thank you for a potion “so well made you should be hired as Royal Alchemist”.

Tashok’s killed before, not often, as she doesn’t relish in it one bit, but once some thieves had broken into the dock’s warehouse and seemed determined not to leave any witnesses.

And of course, bandits seemed to like picking on her whenever she was out gathering ingredients.

As for the marauders, she could justify killing them: they were dangerous, most likely had killed innocent travellers, and at the very least attacked and stole from them.

With that thought guiding her hand, she draws the translucent bow and aims at one of the bandits she can see standing by the fire, their back to her. She has to get this one on the first try; there’ll be no more sneaking after they realize she’s there.

She steadies her arm and releases the bowstring, letting the arrow fly into the side of the bandit’s neck.

Shit…

The wounded bandit is hurt, but not dead, and she hears the sound of yelling and shuffling as she quickly draws another arrow, this one finishing the job. She immediately pulls the string again, aiming at the entrance, ready for the next bandit to come out.

She manages to kill two more as they approach her, but now a man wielding a great-axe is coming at her fast, and she barely manages to dodge his blade as she backs up and knocks another arrow.

In her panic, she doesn’t take the time to draw it all the way, and she pays for it in lessened damage against her enemy when it barely grazes him. He swipes at her again, and this time she doesn’t dodge in time and feels the sharp edge of the blade slicing through her new armour and cutting into her skin near her abdomen.

She cries out in pain and keels over, not before taking an arrow to her right shoulder. She barely has the time to look up at her assailant that she sees the hilt of the axe closing in on her as another flash of pain shoots off from her left eye and cheek.

She puts all her strength into dodging the next attack and dispels her bow in favour of the healing spell she knows. She focusses on the gash left in her abdomen and keeps on backing up.

Taking a deep breath, she steadies herself and looks around: four enemies are left, three of them being archers… If she can take care of the one with the great-axe she may yet live.

She decides to call onto one of the few other spells she knows, hoping she has enough energy left for it to work. She charges it up and smiles in relief to see it’s fully ready to be released, and so she takes aim and lets it go.

A blue flash of light hurls towards the man and hits him square in the chest, and in an instant, his eyes become clouded with confusion and passivity, leaving him to simply stare at her with a distant, neutral expression.

The Calm spell won’t last, and so Tashok takes her only Magicka regenerating potion and chugs it quickly as she keeps stepping around in random directions to avoid the arrows zipping past her. She calls upon her bow once more, and aims directly for the man’s eye.

Once he’s fallen, she draws her bow again, feeling re-energized by the thrill of the kill and aims at the archer with the least amount of cover.

Her vision twists for a moment, seeing red.

At least she thought it was for a moment, until she's calmed down and sees that she just shot down the last of the bandits.

"Right..." she exhales, looking around.

She collects whatever she could carry from the shack and heads back to the city, sore, but victorious.

—

“You’re hurt!” Sofie cries in concern at the sight of Tashok entering in the city.

“I’ll be alright, don’t you fret…” Tashok smiles, but quickly regrets it when it makes her swollen eye stings in pain.

“You need a health potion!”

“I’ll be alright… I can just…” Tashok trails off as she heals herself more with magic.

“You’re a mage?!” Sofie’s tone has many layers; curiosity, surprise, confusion, perhaps even distrust.

“Well… I’m not very good at it, and I don’t know many spells…” Tashok invites Sofie into the inn. “Some customers I used to have showed me some tricks, and knowing how to light a fire is always useful. Same with healing.”

“My dad used to say magic shouldn’t be touched since it was dangerous…” Sofie mumbles.

“I can see why he’d say that. You never want the wrong person to be able to hurt others.”

“But it's okay, you’re nice!”

“I try to be…” Tashok chuckles, her eye and her shoulder feeling much better than they did a few minutes ago.

“What happened?” Sofie motions to Tashok’s eye.

“Some bandits had been harassing people, so I took care of it.” Tashok waves the barmaid over. “Got some money from it too, so we can stay here longer.”

Sofie starts, seemingly frozen in place as she processes the words.

"Sofie?" Tashok frowns in concern.

“You don’t mind me being around?” comes out barely above a whisper.

“Of course not… I’d rather you be here than out in the cold.”

“Me too…” Sofie says after a long pause.

The two of them eat their meal happily as Sofie tells Tashok more about Skyrim and some places she enjoyed. She recalls visiting Whiterun with her parents and visiting the local shops, including an alchemist.

“An alchemist?” Tashok’s ears perk up, which pulls out a giggle from the child. “What?”

“Your ears are moving! I thought only elf ears did that!” Sofie goes to poke Tashok’s ear, causing it to twitch involuntarily.

“Well, I mean... if our history is true…" Tashok pauses in uncertainty. "I am an elf. Just, not like the other ones… Still a Mer. It's in our name. Orsi _mer_.”

“I didn’t know that!”

“Well, the other Merfolk usually deny we’re one of them, and overtime I think Orcs just… Started denying it too.”

“I’ve never met an Orc. If they’re all like you I'm sure they're great!"

Taken by surprise, Tashok blushes and takes quick swigs from the mead she had ordered.

“Well…” she stands up, bashful. “I should tell the barkeep we’ll be staying here a couple more nights.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well here's the second one. I can't promise I'll make them all in order but if I ever do post them out of order I'll make sure to also include a timeline.


End file.
